


And the world is spinning

by cherryvanilla



Series: Yuletide Assignments and Treats [20]
Category: Lucky - Britney Spears (Music Video)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Closeted Character, F/F, Fame, Gen, Parallel Universes, Self-Discovery, Self-cest, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 09:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: "You're... me," Lucky says, swallowing hard and taking in the sight in front of her.Her doppelgänger clicks her tongue and laughs ruefully. "Correction, I was you. You got rid of me a long time ago, babe."Lucky falls back against the car seat and breathes out slowly. "Okay... then why are you here?"Her -- Britney, it's Britney -- shrugs. "Looked like you could use me. Looks like you could use somethin', amirite?""So you're, what? My fairy godmother?"





	And the world is spinning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ouroboros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouroboros/gifts).



> Thanks to Abby for beta! <3

Lucky knocks back another drink, barely listening to whatever the guy who's been chatting her up for the past hour is saying. He's some up-and-coming director and thinks she'll be great for one of his films. She just finished wrapping her latest one in Italy, a tacky rom com that had her showing too much skin and basically no range. She knows she can do better, knows she's got the acting chops to back up her conventional beauty. Hell, she's got an Academy Award to prove it. But that was six years ago, and since then, it's been a long road of movies that align mostly with the star map and not much else. Whatever this guy is saying doesn't seem much different, even if he definitely seems to think he's the next Malick. 

She slips away to the bathroom and then out the side entrance. It's December, and Lucky’s got her fur coat with her, which she doesn't need at all. Acutely, she longs for cool Louisiana nights. 

Lucky’s been in Hollywood since she was 19. She's 27 now and can't recall where the years went. 

She shouldn't be driving, that much is sure, but there's this buzzing in her brain, and she just needs to get away, needs to do something. She drives up Mulholland, to where the Hollywood sign is big and incandescent. 

Standing at the Hollywood Bowl overlook, she silently reflects on when her life stopped being her own. When she let it all get away. When the last time was that she didn't wake up to tear stains on her pillow and smeared mascara. 

"I just want a do-over," she whispers to the stars blinking down at her. Then she gets back in her car and curls down on the front seat, waiting for the tears to come again.  
__________________

"Rise ‘n shine, sleepin' beauty," is the first thing Lucky hears as she groggily comes to. 

It takes her a moment to realize there's a steering wheel beneath her cheek and another to suss out the origin of the voice. 

She finds it when she turns to the right, blinking slowly and seeing... herself sitting there. Except it's not her. This woman is casually dressed, with shorter hair and a few more lines around her eyes. But perhaps the biggest difference is her bright sunny smile. 

"Jeez, how much did I drink?" 

Her double just laughs, head thrown back. "Aw, honey, you'd need more than that sad display last night to hallucinate your doppelgänger, now wouldn't ya?"

Lucky blinks, rubbing at her eyes. Her double has a clear southern accent, but Lucky lost that years ago, right when she came to Hollywood and was told she'd be more marketable without it. "And maybe change your name too, dollface," her manager Emily had said. "It worked for Marilyn."

And pretty soon she wasn't Britney Jean anymore -- who lived in worn, ripped jeans and crop tops, sported two long braids and dropped her consonants -- but Lucky, who donned designer dresses and Veronica Lake-like flowing locks, and never said "y'all". 

"You're... me," Lucky says, swallowing hard and taking in the sight in front of her.

Her doppelgänger clicks her tongue and laughs ruefully. "Correction, I was you. You got rid of me a long time ago, babe."

Lucky falls back against the car seat and breathes out slowly. "Okay... then why are you here?"

Her -- Britney, it's Britney -- shrugs. "Looked like you could use me. Looks like you could use somethin', amirite?"

"So you're, what? My fairy godmother?"

 

“We always did love our Disney, huh? Sure, if that works for you. I'm more like… an alternate universe you. Both the past and the future. I’m the girl you never shed and a glimpse of the woman you might've been.”

Lucky stares at her for a long beat. “Right,” she says slowly. “You sound like the plot to some fantastical rom com.”

Britney sighs and shakes her head. “Darlin’, you need to stop living in the silver screen and start experiencing real life.”

Lucky waves a hand between them. “And this -- this is real life?”

Britney shrugs. “Sometimes even real life can be magical.”

Lucky stopped believing in magic a long time ago. 

“Alright so… what's the game plan? You supposed to show me my least greatest hits of my past 27 years or something?”

“There ain't any hard and fast rules. What do you want? That's what I'm here for.”

Lucky doesn't have to think long. “Louisiana. I want -- I miss it, them.”

By the time she blinks, they're standing outside her old family house. It's close to Christmas, the streets lined with wreaths and the surrounding houses decorated with lights. Lucky hasn't been back in years. There's always work and publicity and -- something keeping her away. This year, her parents didn't even ask if she'd be around. 

Inside, there's the sound of carols coming off an old record player and her sister laughing by the tree as they decorate it. Lucky loved that when she was a kid, it was her favorite night of the year. They'd all sing, and there would be hot chocolate and warm pumpkin pie. She doesn't remember when she lost track of something as pure and simple as that. 

“You okay?” Britney asks, and Lucky finds herself blinking away tears. 

“Yeah. I'm fine.”

Suddenly there's an arm wrapped around her, and she jumps. 

“What?” Britney asks, mouth twisted in a smirk. 

“I, uh, didn't know you could touch me.”

Britney’s laughter is loud and bright. She leans in close and says, “I ain't no ghost, honey.” The warmth of her breath and proximity of her mouth sends shivers down Lucky’s spine. 

“Um. Can people see us, though?”

“Nope,” Britney says, mouth still too close. It’s definitely been too long since she's had any kind of intimacy if her own self is… doing things to her, making her think thoughts that she's tried to ignore for so long now. “We’re invincible, baby.”

“You mean invisible,” she whispers, trying her damnedest to focus.

Britney laughs again, but it's quiet this time, careful. “C’mon, I know where we’re going next.”

Then there's fingers wrapped around her own and another blink-and-you'd miss it leap. 

Suddenly they're on a dance floor. It's dark, with purple and blue lights creating a glow around the bodies moving to the music. Lucky’s eyes widen when she realizes something about the couples. She also realizes Britney hasn't let go of her hand. 

“Where are we?” she asks, pulling away. 

“Relax, no one can see us. No reason to be as freaked out as we were the first time we tried to come here.”

Lucky opens and closes her mouth. “We’re…” 

“At the only gay bar this dang town has. Remember prom night?”

Lucky remembers. Remembers Michael Williams trying to get to second base in the back seat of the limo. Remembers getting out and calling a cab and ending up in town, having always wanted to go into this place and still unable to, even with the fake ID in her pocket.

What if someone found out? What if they told her newly signed agent, who was gonna get her movie auditions in Hollywood? What if…

There was always a “what if.”

“Why am I here?” she asks Britney, not really wanting an answer. 

Britney gives it to her and then some. Steps in close, puts her arms around her waist. “Because it's the only way you'd ever come here. Because you're 27, and you've had sex with one woman, and only then because you were drunk and in Barcelona and she had no idea who you were.”

“Shut up…” Lucky whispers, closing her eyes. Her hands are hovering over Britney’s shoulders, fingers clenched in fists. 

“We have a girlfriend in my world,” she says, and Lucky’s eyes fly open. 

“How, um --”

Britney cuts her off, palming her side and making her shiver. “We made different choices. Lived for us and no one else.” 

She drops one hand on Britney’s shoulder, fingers squeezing gently. It feels so good to touch someone, even if it's just herself. 

“And at what cost?”

Britney laughs and pulls Lucky closer, moving them to the beat of the music. “Well, you never won the Oscar for that stupidly conventional film. And they're no longer concerned with you being some A-list star, which means we were able to make some interesting movies for a change. You won an Independent Spirit Award.”

“No way.”

The Oscar… well, she's right. It's not like it was some groundbreaking role. It was big budget, safe and marketed strictly for the Awards season, and she barely won any other awards leading up to it. It wasn't a passionate project. 

“Way, girlie,” Britney says, voice low and happy in her ear. “Now shut up and dance.”

So Lucky does, gives herself up to the music in a way she hasn't in a long time. She has a voice and could've gone a whole different way, could've had the life of a pop star, but she chose acting over singing when she was a kid, and her parents put everything they had into lessons and agents and a Hollywood fast track. She's come a long way from the wooden performances she gave on TV shows when she was still a kid. 

Britney’s singing quietly against her, the vibration thrumming against Lucky’s throat, and it's only then that she realizes they're grinding together, slow and dirty, her own hands linked around Britney's back. 

Suddenly that mouth is on her neck, pressing soft, gentle kisses into overheated skin, while hands dare to move from Lucky’s waist to her ass, palming with intent. 

It's been so long since anyone touched her like this, and even longer since it was someone she actually, truly wanted. That night in Barcelona comes drifting back in waves: the wild abandon, the rolling around on silk hotel room sheets for hours, sweaty and hot, hands and tongues everywhere, the air filled with breathless cries and desperate moans. 

One of those moans slips out now, inadvertently, and it only spurs Britney on, her mouth hotter, harder on Lucky’s neck, moving up to her jaw, the corner of her mouth. 

“I, oh, I thought you had a girlfriend,” Lucky gasps, eyes closed as she wantonly tries to catch her own lips in a kiss.

“This is just a glimpse, baby, it ain't actually real. Besides, it's like masturbation.” The words are mumbled against her lips. 

Lucky laughs, a little hysterical. “This is a _little_ different than masturbation.” She kisses Britney, shallow, teasing kisses, their mouths meeting, then breaking apart. 

“Point, but look at it this way. Unless you shape up, that girlfriend of mine ain't ever gonna be a girlfriend of yours.”

Lucky stills, thinking about that. It's true. This may technically be herself that she's currently making out with, but it isn't the life she's living. 

“Stop thinking,” Britney whispers against her mouth. “Feel.” She takes Lucky’s hands, places them on her ass. “Take what you want.” Kisses her, open-mouthed and dirty, their tongues tangling. “Do anything you want.”

And it's like something snaps inside her, all the careful moves and perfect images falling away like shed skin. And Lucky takes. Takes Britney’s mouth in deep, wet kisses. Makes her moan. Feels her body beneath her hands, her hips, her abs, her breasts. 

They drift through the crowd like they're weightless, and end up against the back wall of the bar. No one can see them at all, yet there's still something wild and thrilling about it -- hiding in plain sight. Perhaps it's what she's been doing her whole life. 

They grind together against the wall, and it should be weird, it should feel fucked up, kissing herself, dragging her mouth down her own skin, but it isn't. Instead, it's the hottest thing to ever happen to her. 

When Britney’s hands find her tits, palming and squeezing, Lucky lets out a guttural moan. When those same hands work their way into her pants to jerk her off, it's a million ways different than all the times she's touched herself. It's better, in every sense. And when they drop to the floor and Britney eats her out, right there, with silhouettes of people dancing five feet away from them, Lucky feels something she never has before. She feels complete.  
__________________

They spend the whole night together. Britney blinks them to some cabin (because they're the same person, and she obviously knows what Lucky likes aesthetically), and they fuck in front of a fireplace with the snow falling outside the window. Lucky tries to give back as good as she’s getting, knowing all the while that she isn't as experienced as this version of herself. 

She seems to do a pretty good job, though, if the way Britney falls apart around her tongue and fingers is any indication. They kiss; they kiss so much, and after, they lay curled around each other while Britney talks in vague terms about this girl that they're apparently in love with. 

“It's the rules,” she says, when Lucky complains about her refusal to say more, to even tell Lucky her name. “I can't tell you how things will happen, where you meet or even if you will. But I can tell you absolutely nothing _will_ happen with this current course you're on.”

It's a sobering thought after all the boneless afterglow, and Lucky stiffens, her heart stuttering in her chest. 

She wants to, can she possibly -- 

“Hey,” Britney says, tipping Lucky’s face toward her like she knows exactly what she's thinking. Hell, she probably does. “None of that right now, okay.” Her words are rough and her lips are kissed raw. “C’mere.” 

And then they're wrapped up in one another again, and Lucky loses herself in it, in this comfortable version of herself, who has found love and happiness and things that have for so long seemed unattainable. 

“Oh god,” Lucky moans as Britney slides down her body, lips wrapping around her nipple and tugging gently while one hand rubs at her clit. 

“Gonna make you come at least two more times tonight,” Britney promises, eyes dark and staring up at Lucky even as she mouths her way down her stomach. 

“Oh my god,” Lucky repeats, trembling and letting all her worries fall away. Her eyes roll up toward the ceiling at the first touch of Britney’s tongue again. “God, please,” she whispers, and she doesn't know if it's a prayer or a plea, but either way, Britney gives her everything and more. 

“Lemme hear you, baby,” Britney gasps, like this is turning her on just as hard, and Lucky does, arching up, chanting out, “yes” and “please” and “more” while Britney’s tongue licks at her harder, faster, deeper. 

She nearly passes out when she comes, body trembling and legs unsteady, and God, they're not even anywhere near done yet. 

It's like the sexual awakening she never truly had, and it's the most incredible night of Lucky’s life, Academy Awards included.  
__________________

When Lucky wakes up, she's not naked in a cabin wrapped around both a blanket and her own equally naked double. No, she's back in her car with a crick in her neck and the sun coming up over Mulholland. 

She'd believe it was only a dream if her nipples weren’t sore and her lips swollen. 

“Jesus,” she mutters, dragging her hand over her face and through her messy hair. 

She gets herself together enough to drive home. When she listens to her messages, there's one from her manager and two from her agent about how unprofessional it was to leave in the middle of a business meeting and doesn't she know what a good opportunity that was and she’d better have a good explanation. There's nothing from her family, and Christmas is next week. 

She takes a shower and flops onto her bed in just a towel, her mind drifting back to last night. Her body remembers it vividly, and she lets that feeling roll over her, how amazing it felt to be loved by a woman, even if it was just herself. It reminded her what sex could actually be like when you let yourself have what you truly want. And made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, love could be like that, too. 

She picks up the phone before she knows what she's doing and calls her agent. 

“Hey, Jack. It’s Britney.” 

She cuts off his surprise at hearing her given name and gets right to the point. “And no, I won't apologize for last night. Because it was the best night of my life, and there's gonna be some changes, ya hear? Get Emily together for a meeting, we’ve got a lot to talk about. And I'm not doing that photo shoot next week. I'm gonna be in Louisiana.” 

She hangs up the phone before he can finish one sentence, smiling so wide it hurts her face. Yeah, it's high time Lucky Spears stepped off a movie screen and into the life of Britney Jean. 

The end.


End file.
